Morning arrived with an undercurrent of tension.
Alaric walked through the corridors toward his first class. Campaign posters had appeared overnight, clean, professional, placed in every approved location throughout the Academy.
He passed several on his way. Simple designs, each reflecting their candidate's approach.
Students moved through the halls in clusters, some discussing the election, others focused on morning classes. The energy was different than yesterday, more charged, more purposeful.
As Alaric entered the classroom, Oliver was already there, organizing his notes.
"Morning," Oliver said, looking up. "Ready for another day?"
"As ready as I'll ever be."
They took their assigned seats, Alaric in the front row, Oliver several rows back.
Lyria arrived shortly after, moving to her seat beside Alaric with that same tired neutrality. She set down her bag, pulled out her materials, and sat in silence.
